The Flowers Of Yearning
by Glyphron
Summary: Fenris has a gift, a token of his own affections he wishes to give Hawke.


Her eyes are all asparkle, her fatuation taken by a delicate orchid with exceptional blazing color. She is dazzled by the lovely petals and she glows, all alight. An angel. And his eyes cannot track from her stance poised over, arching to cradle the tiny bloom in tender hands.

His heart jerks in his chest with the reminder of just how much he loves her. All fresh and new like the first blanket of soft snow in winter. Glittering with sunlight from the crystalline frost.

Fenris holds a potted orchid with the same magnificence in his hands. The flower shop is quaint, but small, and he is trying to sneak past her with it to the counter. Terrified that, any moment, those blazing blue eyes will turn and capture him. He makes it, but refuses to breathe out the sigh buried deep inside his lungs.

He trades dull coins, rusted from years of service for her guaranteed brilliant smile. He knows it will happen, that it will come when she sees the smuggled gift. He cannot wait for it. The man at the counter cannot exchange the trade fast enough. Tired and worn from a day's work yet still smiling warm, as though his dream has been fulfilling. But, he does not feel Fenris' need.

Fenris wants the glory of a moment she cannot expect, something that takes his breath away as it fills her with joy, unending, at something so simple as a flower.

It is a wonder how the smallest things can have such an impact upon her. Another crater on his lovely lady moon, pale and perfect. Always perfect. Flawless with her pearly skin and hair of ash and ravens. Her broad smile and sharp wit. Her grace and a voice smooth as water running over polished stone. And no quirk, no moment can ruin that greatness, or corrupt her image permanently singed within his mind.

The only brand he never wants gone.

The suspense finally comes to a close as the man stashes the secret in a little cloth bag and hands it away to his customer. The wolf who is waiting for his lovely bird to be finished with her explorations. His present is easily stashed safely at his back, away from view and curious eyes.

She is running fingertips over the velvet of roses as she approaches the warped little wooden door, donning faded red paint. It complains of age when her hand takes the handle and swings it away from her path. Her face turns back to seek him out, her expression content and fulfilling to his eyes but not his desires. Not yet. That will come soon.

She takes no notice of his attempts at hiding something, a respite for his anxiety.

"Shall we?" The golden bell of her voice warmed by a happy mood chimes to his ears.

He can only give a slow nod, taken by his fancies of her glory.

He follows, yearning, excited. He follows in her steps a trail of joy to be had for the rest of his years which will hopefully stretch long beside hers. But he keeps behind her, dodging her notice, her peripheral vision. Dodging a spoiled surprise.

He waits until their feet have wandered far away from the bustle and the noise. From prying eyes that could intrude on what is rightfully all his. And always will be. They cannot have this moment. He wants it all to himself.

"Hawke..." He breathes to the air, the exhale stolen by the curves of her sides and the lithe frame that houses her soul.

It is too quiet, he needs her too look at him now, to share this with her. Right now. It is time.

Fortunately, her ears are ever attentive to his voice, always drawn to every whisper he makes. And they catch it despite how low the sound was made. She turns to face him, the shining of her happiness diminished. Swallowed savagely by concern. And he berates himself within his skull for causing worry.

Quickly he flashes a smile at her and catches the rim of her eyes on his. A move that always stills her every thought and entraps her only in him. He takes care to use it when all other devices have failed.

He pulls from his back the grainy cloth bag and she quirks a brow in wonder. With great pains to ensure no petals snag, bend, or tear, he reveals the gift from its humble curtian. And the smile that spreads like wildfire in a dry field across her face is sharp, and brighter still than ever. Her teeth like carefully cut diamonds, straight and refracting the light of her high spirits.

Her eyes nearly close in her mirth, the blue that flashes from them sparking a fire in his stomach. She saunters to him, into him. Wrapping his free arm with the bag still in tow around her small shoulders, and leaning in.

"I am yours," the whisper almost doesn't make it through his lips.

A grin, her wit peeking through, answers back, "And I shall have you."

Her lips clasp his, and they engage in the delights of such fine sweets right there, safe from all eyes. But free from constricting walls. The sky is their only witness.


End file.
